


Papiermâché

by settely



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Addiction, Death, Depression, Multi, Regret, Romance, post ME2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/settely/pseuds/settely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do tell me, Lt, is it tough to dream and yet not believe the fantasy for a moment? From after the catastrophe of the first Normandy to the reunion on Horizon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reality

The asari in the club adore him. They keep going to and fro, requesting drinks, stopping for a moment to chat and later flex their muscles before him. Not all of them are dancers, oh no. The legend has already poured into many ears and minds, its crop slowly rising and promising grains that will one day spill onto the ground in thick spurts.  
  
And well, it's always all about the same thing in the end. Some right touch, an accordingly picked smell, tongue tasting reflexes and sweetness of one's fall. Matching movements, the heaviness of sleep encircling his senses afterwards, the hollow ache seeming never meant to run dry that blooms deep within his head . In the end, nothing new can be thought or said after the grant finale.  
  
Asari dancers are eager, too eager to try anything a client wants. They can paint your face blue with their lips, make you embrace eternity needed such times like water on Sahara back on Earth. They are perfect examples of distraction, a skillfully thought-out operation meant to make one forget about everything.  
  
And no matter how many times others keep on forgetting about the small fact after the battle of the Citadel, Kaidan Alenko is just a weak human like his fellow mates.

 

*

  
  
When she nibbles on his collarbone, a sweet scented trail marked with lipstick and saliva, Kaidan does not dream. He is staring at the ceiling, while the slim body on top of him is moving, twisting and turning like a flame. The warmth is not burning hot. It's there, just the place it's supposed to be and yet, taking things out of context, it could very well mean a stray summer wind's kiss, barely noticeable.

  
  
This weekend the asari has a skin tone resembling Liara's, cute nerd-type eye candy's that proved herself capable of many things throughout their rendezvous before, well. The end of things. Now he has no idea where she could be, maybe even as lost as he himself without the only thing that tied each of them together. The girl has even her freckles, violet mixing together with pinkish undertones. Her eyelids are heavily underlined with make-up, resembling two black spiders the moment she closes and reopens them when the jackpot seems to get hit time and time again.

  
The eternity they both reached leaves a bitter aftertaste of solitude in his mouth. Even though together, it's still all in their minds. Joining. It sounds too sweet to have a one-night stand referred as something so. Sacred and desired.  
  
She smokes a cigarette when he heads off to wash away the trickling sweat, naked and with his head hung down. He knows her name is Alesha or something similarly easy to roll down one's tongue. Not that he ever used the name after the introduction at the club when they danced, drank colourful shots and later headed to his room. He never uses their names apart from the initiative contact and later, more through one. They are needed not to get busted while caring little to nothing about the person behind it. In the end, he is only a name to them as well.

  
  
"You are quite the hero, lieutenant. I heard you had served under the first human Spectre." Her rounded with years hips glisten against the window overlooking Omega's centre as he comes back, body wet and finally back to its normal emptiness. The warmth is gone once again. "Fighting the geth must've been hard on you."  
  
  
He towels himself dry while she comes nearer, her silhouette pitch dark against the neon's afterglow. Kaidan thinks he already knows where all of this is heading towards but he remains silent, choosing observation rather than a rushed interference.

  
  
"The name rings a bell every time I hear it and yet, huh. I've never really had the head for those human ones." Their faces are nearly touching by now. He eyes her breasts, weighty and perky while she folds her arms firmly, bringing them into full view. "Still very much in love, aren't we?"  
  
There is a smirk on her face when he turns his head away.

   
  
"Commander Shepard. That's the one you kept muttering in-between, right." She moves past him, her shoulder brushing his fleetingly before she starts picking up scattered pieces of her clothing. Kaidan glances at her when she zips her suit snuggly and later fixes her looks in the mirror across the room. She winks at him, not drawing her eye from the reflective surface away. "Just so you know, soldier. Way to spoil the mood with someone else. No hard feelings here though."  
  
  
"Not a problem for you?"  
  
  
"Why should it be? Either way, we'd forget each other's name next week or so. You're quite the ride, honey but not entirely my type. I prefer free-lancers to marines. Besides, looks like you'd rather have something entirely different as well."

  
She smiles softly. "Wish I could get to know your species more thoroughly. Humans are truly fascinating with their obsessions and fears. Truly fascinating, huh."

  
  
She checks the apartment twice for any leftover possessions of hers before exiting finally, sneaking into an alley without a second glance thrown at him.


	2. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past and present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should've posted this story the way it was meant to from the beginning instead of chickening out but well. In the middle of fixing the mistake nowadays :)

It always starts out the same way, the light pulsating and dimming itself within the shadows rhythmically. It does not matter where exactly they are at the time being. It's always dark, the air sultry and thick with something that cannot be put into simple words. Wrongness maybe?  
  
This time it's an underground station. There are halos of some neon signs in the background, panel controls' green and red clashing with blue flashes of the biotic attacks. Screams and grunts echo around them, nonsensical parts of dialogue mixing up into one sound soup, pain and the emotion barely recognisable. The smell of rotting flesh is unmanageable, coming from behind some closed doors, filling up nose cavities and mouth.  
  
Kaidan feels sweat trickling down the side of his temple, slick liquid tasting of plastic as he kneels behind some abandoned boxes. His hands are trembling on the barrel of the gun but he holds it steady, aims and shoots. Twice, thrice and more, series after series coming when the attacks throw people against the walls and up towards the ceiling. One, two, three and more bodies fall, bones breaking with ease under the force of his shooting. They crumble, the muffled thud of flesh hitting the deck the only thing getting registered in his mind.  
  
Like always, Shepard is nowhere to be seen.  
  
He props himself against the metal banister, this time the shotgun less hot to touch and so the service continues. A stray sniper's laser finds Kaidan's arm and white pain blinds him for a moment, one too long for sure. A few krogan come closer and the shots rumble deafeningly. Their mud-brown blood spurts thickly when Wrex gets a long burst, their pained moans mixing with Kaidan's.  
  
The world begins to shift, colours dancing to the rhythm of his breathing when the man blinks tiredly. Everything seems to have slowed down somehow and his body begins to feel heavier, as if weighed down with sand or water. Another red line, his leg gives up and the lieutenant falls heavily onto his stomach. He draws shaky breaths, clenching at the flesh but the pain snakes round nerves and vessels, not letting go. He crawls, trying to calm his racing heart but it proves to be of no use. Blood is being pumped restlessly in his veins like in a mechanism and the redness spreads across his vision, obscuring everything for a moment.  
  
After he wipes his face clean and spits out the bitter saliva gathered in his mouth, things do not look bright. Two Geth Juggernauts creep towards him, their blood-red armour shining almost merrily underneath the heavy lamps, rockets ready to be launched at any moment. Kaidan stares into one of the bright flashlight eyes, feeling sweat gather on his forehead and underneath the gloves. Icy coldness starts encircling his senses while the humanoid creatures tilt their heads, stopping in their tracks. If they had faces, he's sure they would be smiling lazily in triumph by now.  
  
  
"Alenko, dodge! DODGE! NOW!" Suddenly commander's shouting pierces through his ears, words hard and much too clear in the headphones. Somebody forcefully shoulders him out of their way towards a mass of unused canisters where he falls lifelessly, barely able to hold the shotgun. Energetic shots ramble throughout the blocks, the mechs dripping with white fluid while convulsing on the floor a few feet from where he has just been lining. He observes Shepard throw grenade after grenade towards lighter armoured units, the explosions echoing within the closed walls twice as loud as usually. Smoke from broken gas cylinders wreathes round the containers, fleshing out the silhouettes of geth snipers and their laser sights. Taking each of them down is only a matter of seconds accompanied by quiet curses and the smell of melting plastic.  
  
  
When the building grows silent once again, Kaidan feels the cool touch of Medi-gel enfold his wounds. Tissues heal rapidly and soon the mist leaves his eyesight. He sees Shepard kneeling in front of him, his face flushed and sweaty. Wrex moves somewhere in the background, his laboured breathing loud and monotonous. He must have been running to and fro, using his biotics to break necks and spines of the geth just in time for the man to shoot holes in their heads.  
  
  
"Pretty close this time, huh?" The krogan mutters humourlessly, cocking his gun to the side while Kaidan tries to scramble to his feet as quickly as possible. A short-lived dizziness welcomes him on board, making it impossible to stand properly. Wrex observes him intently, his scarred face not betraying any emotions for a moment. "Thought for a moment you wouldn't make it, human."  
  
  
It takes a moment for his head to stop swimming. Kaidan looks around, mutilated bodies lying everywhere, either with their heads shot away or holes the size of a fist in their armour. He steps forward but soon his knees buckle. Before he can fall again however, Shepard throws his left arm onto his own shoulder and roughly grabs him round the waist. "Who-ah, slow down there, lieutenant. No need to start running after having your leg nearly blasted away, right?"  
  
  
The man smiles at him, the expression stretching his skin taunt. Light gets caught up in his eyes, baby blues shining with mirth as they wander round Kaidan's face searchingly.  
  
It's not the blood-loss when the world starts spinning once again. Shepard is still talking, holding onto him when shadows cease to hold their depth, smudged lines replace solid edges and the temperature drops a few degrees. Somehow, Kaidan does not feel alarmed. It feels as if he was about to dive into an ocean, water-like air already circling round them effortlessly, his lungs adapting themselves to containing much more oxygen. He wants to tell the man something, the need piercing through his head, something important that slips his memory constantly. Something vital but what might it be?  
  
  
"Commander, I-"  
  
  
The picture wobbles as if he had tears in his eyes and soon, there is no underground station, no geth bodies, no Wrex and both of them are standing in the middle of some treeless clearing. Shepard's armour glistens in the early summer's sun and large specks of dust dance in the air slowly. He tightens his grip on Kaidan's body awkwardly and as the edges loose their stability, blurring into an opaque soup of greyish shadows, warmth dissolves round every muscle patiently. It's a welcome and yet alien feeling.  
  
  
"Sleep, Kaidan, sleep for as long as you need."  
  
  
Shepard's chuckle is muffled as if he was far away, not standing just mere centimetres from him. He is smiling when Kaidan moves his head up to look at him, the man's face blurring away, dissolving into millions of pink, brownish and blue smudges like mist in the morning.  
  
  
"I'll be there."  
  
  
The sensation of swimming is spreading when delicate hands embrace Kaidan, pressing him against some delightfully temperate surface. The ground disappears when they start to rock and some far-away sound of humming fills his ears. It's a lullaby, an old tune he remembers having heard years ago back on Earth. It's a childhood tune of his, long ago forgotten and yet cherished as only memories can be.  
  
  
"I'll be there." Words playfully caress his exposed neck while everything is ending in white smoke filling up his head.  
  
  
There is nothing, no yesterday, no tomorrow, no eternity. Just present and the relishable warmth. Everywhere. Around him. Inside of him. Being a part of the outside world. Being a part of him. Everywhere.  
  
  
  
For a moment, the light feels way too heavy. Eyelids are weighty with sleep when Kaidan opens them with a smack, blindly feeling round himself. Covers are soaked with sweat, their midnight blue dimmed in the halo of a bedside lamp. The room is silent save for his own breath and the distant echo of someone's footsteps on the corridor's floor.  
  
He can't remember much from the dream. It's like wool filling up his head, warm and smooth, thus indescribable. The feeling brings a smile to his lips, something rarely seen any more. A shower warms him up further, foam and steam obscuring his silhouette against the whitish tiles.  
  
It's an ordinary day, one like every other already lived or still awaiting to happen. He eats the breakfast, goes to Anderson to report back about his latest escapades to Artemis Tau, Hawking Eta and Armstrong Cluster to check on the geth. There's been no sign of their activity recently but everything needs to be checked twice in Councillor Udina's eyes. Kaidan is fine with that. He is fine with lots of things nowadays and so, he can keep doing other pointless assignments given to him by Admiral Hackett and others. All of it is just a work someone needs to do and he might as well be that person.  
  
Later, after reporting back and getting new operations on going, Kaidan faces his crew and commander. They are good men and women, well-qualified and goal-oriented. Some of them resemble the deceased Jenkins, their hearts and minds open, dreaming young-hot-heated visions full of glory and human triumphs. They shout while fighting in combat, staring wide-eyed at their wounds hours later. Nobody ends up being shell-shocked for more than a few minutes though, thanks to the Alliance's training and skills. Lousy soldiers pose more of a threat to their own units than unexpected enemy lines at times, in the end.  
  
After the battle of the Citadel, many things needed to change. People gained the fame and power as well as new duties. The welfare of the galaxy ceased being only a thing of other's. They've been one of the most prominent races since the day and so, many new opportunities showed themselves quickly. It is good to see all their past efforts being repaid double at times, each grim day resulting in easier slept nights and free of trouble thoughts. The biggest danger was fought with and they won but still something lurks in the furthest realms of the galaxy.  
  
Sometimes, Kaidan gets the wildest thoughts going on in his head. Like opening the airlock and jumping into the blackness. Puncturing his own suit in the middle of the mission on some isolated planet. Forgetting about the safety while shooting varrens and the krogan, fighting to get onto the first line of fire and just get there killed once and for all. Everybody seems to be reading his thoughts such times and instead he gets to provide technical support instead of physical one, fights in the middle, uses sniper riffles instead of mass accelerators or provides the knowledge on the geth. It's frustrating but Kaidan does not say a thing in protest. He works, he shoots, he sabotages and uses his biotics when ordered. He's a good and useful soldier.  
  
The iconic Commander Shepard sure saw the potential in him when he chose him as one of his support-men for the final round with Saren after all, nearly half a year ago. He is one of the people who fought the geth invasion. He is a hero, even with his L-2 implants and survivor guilt, he is valuable.  
  
He is one of the few who got out alive from the catastrophe of SSV Normandy! He should be grateful that he lives, that he can spread on the tale of the first human Spectre, the honourable and devilishly handsome Shepard, the man who made the Earth noticed for the first time. He should do so many things, tell so many about his victories and successes, should and should, and should...  
  
Kaidan is tired. Tired of himself, of others, tired of the scenes replaying themselves at night and in the waking hours of new days. It would be so much damn easier if it was him who got firstly hit, not Pressly, if Ashley had got out of Virmire and Shepard hasn't been such a damn blasted hero of a good commander. He would be the one who gets remembered less and less accurately within passing days, with some idiotic foundations built on the ruins of his deceased identity, maybe something for the poor L-2 people left away to rot by the Alliance? Why not, Williams got a medal for her open views on human and alien contacts in the end, why should he not be included in some posthumous cult?  
  
Sometimes, the alternative shows promises that could never be fulfilled now. Things only long ago dead lips could whisper in lucid dreams. Like being hold by strong arms freed from leaky armour, like worlds that could be reflected in the other's eyes, like feeling normal and needed, like thousands of other sappy-romantic things nothing but dreaming can now provide.  
  
Work is everything that matters now. Fighting, shooting, sabotaging, going to and fro between the locations already seen and thoroughly investigated before everything blew up. It's the only thing left that connects the broken puzzles, makes sense, even the tiniest bit of it in the darkest of times. Dying from your own hand does not prove a thing and Kaidan knows it. It's too easy. Too fucking out of character for something like that to be a tribute to Shepard.  
  
The man was strong.  
  
Much too strong for his and Kaidan's serenity, it seems.


End file.
